


Pretense

by extremelyperturbed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Romance, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Romantic Comedy, non-cannibalism AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-11 17:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremelyperturbed/pseuds/extremelyperturbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to this kinkmeme:</p><p>Hannibal & Will attend the opera together then go for a wonderful meal. After they go home and have passionate loving sex.</p><p>then the alarm clock goes off and Hannibal wakes up alone.</p><p>He lets Will believe he's a serial killer & cannibal because otherwise he knows Will won't find him interesting.</p><p>+1 Bedelia is the only one who knows the truth and is very worried about Hannibal.<br/>+2 Alana realises how Hannibal feels about Will and this is really why she doesn't want to get into a relationship with Will.<br/>+3 Will is truly oblivious</p><p>Lonely pinning Hannibal desperate for Will to notice him please :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Even though the opera is named after Carmen, it is Jose who has a dramatic arc,” said Will as he walked out of the opera house with Hannibal. He was dressed impeccably and his hair was styled in a way that tamed but did not completely squelch the curliness of his hair.

“That is true. His love for Carmen sends him into a downward spiral where he loses more and more until all he has is his love for her and then she rejects him while she remains herself, alluring and free until the tragic end,” said Hannibal, so very happy to have Will on his arm.

“I’m surprised that there’s a restaurant open this late at night.”

“The chef is from New York and wanted to serve what he thought was an under served market. I liked eating at midnight.”

After the dinner which consisted of nine courses of one revelation after the other, they took a taxi back to Hannibal’s place. Standing in front of his door, Hannibal said, “Stay the night, stay . . .”

“Yes.”

Hannibal was taking him by the hand to the bedroom, eager to take off Will's clothes with all the joy a child has for finally getting his hands on a mountain of birthday presents.

And that is when the alarm clock rang and Hannibal’s eyes opened to a bed only occupied by himself. He sighed, knowing that he had a long day ahead of him without even the consolation of a late session with Will to look forward to. Will had gone out of town to look at another gruesome crime scene and would be gone until the next week where he would talk about the darkness that was trying to consume his mind and soul.

***  
“Sangria?” said Hannibal as his psychiatrist poured herself a glass of the sweet, fruity drink. 

“Just trying out a recipe. Would you like some?” said Bedelia from her usual chair.

“I prefer my alcohol on the dry side,” said Hannibal. 

“As you wish,” she said, taking a sip. “What would you like to talk about?”

“The usual.”

“Will Graham.”

“Yes.”

“Have you told him of the warm regard you have for him?”

“I have made many overtures of friendship including an invitation to brunch. Unfortunately . . .”

“Unfortunately . . .”

“While he finds my culinary skills to be exemplary, he doesn’t find me terribly interesting.”

“Considering that he is going to you for psychiatric care, it may be best to keep things on a less intimate basis.”

“We’re not officially doctor and patient.”

“Even so, you are offering him care and that indicates that a certain amount of distance would be best. You mentioned that he has had terrible experiences in the past with other psychiatrists. Perhaps that plays a part in his disinclination to become more friendly with you. I would suggest that you set your sights on someone more open to what you have to offer.”

“It is difficult when one dreams about the person in question.”

“What kind of dream?”

“A beautiful dream.”

“Ah.” Bedelia took another sip of her sangria.

***  
“You’ve got a mustache,” said Hannibal as he watched Alana put down her glass on his kitchen counter. Dinner was almost ready but he wanted to have her taste his newest brew, a beer stored in a barrel that had once held Pinot Noir.

“What?” said Alana. “Oh!” She licked her upper lip to get rid of the foam from the beer she drank. “Lots of head on that one.”

“I bought yeast from a different supplier.”

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“Why do you think something’s on my mind?”

“Most people wouldn’t notice but you’ve been a little subdued as of late.”

“Oh.”

“Would it have anything to do with the new patient you have?”

“You mean, Will.”

“I know that you can’t tell me anything that he’s told you but I know that Jack asked you to help him deal with all the murder scenes he examines. It can’t be easy.”

“I’ve had many patients who have had terrible things happen to them If I couldn’t handle it, I would have referred him to someone else. I want to help him.”

“You like him.”

“I find him easy to like.”

Alana gave him a look. 

“What?”

“He’s not very polite. I thought that was something you demanded of any and all acquaintances.”

“I am willing to bend the rules, considering his circumstances. I find him fascinating.” Hannibal decided to distract her by pouring her another glass of beer.

There was a knock on his door. Hannibal ran to the door without even taking off his apron. He was terribly pleased to see Will standing with a bottle of wine. “Please come in.”

“I bought some wine. I don’t know if it’ll match the food.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Nice apron.”

“Ah, well,” said Hannibal. “Dinner is almost but not quite ready.”

“Oh, hi, Alana!” said Will, looking over Hannibal’s shoulder and noticeably perking up. 

Hannibal retreated into the kitchen to hide his disappointment and jealousy.


	2. Chapter 2

Dripping with sweat and wearing nothing but shorts and a T-shirt, Hannibal was in the middle of an hour’s worth of running on a treadmill. Afterwards, he planned to do some free weights before doing a few laps in a swimming pool. Besides working out at the exclusive gym, he took weekly Krav Maga lessons to round out his routine. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel utterly dissatisfied with his body. Even though he intellectually knew that he could have the type of definition he wanted from his abs if he stuck to a particular diet that would require abandoning certain favorite dishes, he couldn’t help but feel envy and irritation towards people who could eat cheeseburgers and still have a six pack. I should credit my tailor for creating suits that flatter my most imperfect frame, he thought.

He looked in the mirror and sighed. He was worried about his hair going gray. While Alberto, his hairdresser, had insisted that being a silver fox would suit him, he was loath to let his grey hairs multiply. I am aging, he thought. My body is crumbling like an ancient ruin. He had briefly considered having work done but dismissed it as being undignified and beneath him. 

He thought about last night’s dinner. While talking to Alana, Will had smiled and his eyes had sparkled with genuine warmth. Hannibal had noticed that while Alana seemed to be flattered by Will’s attention, there was a distance to her appreciation. He remembered the many things she had said about him; how she had to refrain from analyzing him and how she wanted someone more stable. He felt incredibly irritated that Will was wasting his regard on someone who had problems with his essential being.

Hannibal sighed. The only time Will had paid any attention to him that night was when someone else at the dinner table had asked about why he cooked so much offal. He had given a mini-lecture about how important it was to love and appreciate every part of what the animal had to offer. He also pointed out that what was considered undesirable or even taboo was loved by some other culture like how animals considered pets here would be eaten in a stew elsewhere and how even humans had been hunted well into the twentieth century by tribesman of Papua New Guinea. Will had given him his full attention, even looking him in the face with a clear and present gaze. Hannibal had made a mental note to look up more unusual food trivia that might strike Will’s interest.

As the treadmill slowed at the end of the programmed hour, Hannibal reached for his towel and wiped himself down as well as the machine. I will also have to look up some recipes for those fishes he catches. I think he would appreciate that.

***  
Chilton was not the first person on Hannibal’s list of dining companions but Chilton’s empty social calendar and the fact he was both a fellow doctor and involved with many of the cases Jack and Will were investigating made certain topics easier to bring up at dinner. Also, Hannibal enjoyed testing out new recipes on Chilton before presenting them to his other friends. He could tell by Chilton’s expression if a certain dish was a sublime revelation featuring surprisingly unusual combinations or something so edgy and bizarre that it discouraged people from even trying it. The one person he did not bother to test dishes for was Jack Crawford. Jack seemed to enjoy being pushed with extravagantly odd concoctions. 

“I know that the chicken feet dim sum I served previously was not to your liking,” said Hannibal as he placed a dish in front of his dinner guest. 

Chilton flashed him a sour look. “No, it was not. Neither was the beef testicles.”

“I understand.”

“I’d also appreciate no brains. I‘m not a zombie nor do I want to become one. Mrs. Komeda may love that type of thing but not me.”

“Today’s dish should be considerably less challenging to your palate. I hope that you enjoy this Goan shrimp curry,” said Hannibal, referring to a region of India along the west coast. “I also made basmati rice and a few other side dishes.” 

“It smells excellent,” said Chilton with a relieved smile at seeing only things he could easily recognize.

“Good,” said Hannibal as he sat down facing his guest.

During dinner, Hannibal said, “Chilton, I know that you have been working with Jack regarding the Chesapeake Ripper case.”

“Yes, that’s true. Did Will talk to you about it?”

“You know that anything he says to me during his time with me is confidential.”

“Of course.”

“I was, however, very curious if you had built a profile of the Ripper.”

Chilton smiled smugly. “Yes, I did.”

“Go on.”

“I believe the killer is a man, someone with a great deal of strength and surgical skill. He is not suspected because he has constructed a persona that hides his true nature from the world. After objectively examining the murders, I declare that this is the work of a methodical mind that enjoys the feeling of being so much smarter than everybody else. He enjoys taunting the FBI with the murders, playing and laughing at God.”

“He sounds a most pleasant fellow.”

“He may very well present him as one.”

A seed of an idea was on the cusp of germinating in the rich soil of Hannibal’s mind. “Someone like the Chesapeake Ripper would be considered fascinating, wouldn’t he?”

“I would give my eyetooth for a chance to probe his mind. Do you have anybody in mind that fits the description?”

“Sadly, no, or I would’ve told Jack already.” 

“If you do find him, be sure to give me credit since the profile I gave you should help you a great deal.”

“As you wish, Frederick.”

***  
Later that night, Hannibal wondered what he could do with Frederick’s profile. In many ways, Hannibal himself fit that description. He was indeed a former surgeon and a good one. He had taken care to keep himself in good shape. He had always been known for having an odd sense of humor. Of course, he was not going to go out and actually kill people to taunt his good friends. That was out of the question. 

He did not want Will to truly consider him a suspect. He had no desire to have Jack come to his house and escort him to an interrogation room. He just needed to stimulate enough of Will’s attention for just long enough to reconsider his opinion of him as not very interesting. While he had Will’s attention focused on him, he could show him things that would not only clear him but would entertain and amuse Will into seeing him as more than just someone he had to see in order to keep his job. 

He looked at the picture he had drawn of Will. It was of a Will that had none of the worry and the unhappiness that so plagued him. Will was without his glasses, a serene expression on his face, his eyes half open. He was leaning against a wall, utterly relaxed and with a half smile on his face as if listening to a very amusing story told to him by a friend. He was wearing slacks, a white shirt and a tie that was completely loosened. This was the Will he wanted to see most.

***

“I am completely and utterly against this plan,” said Bedelia flatly as she sat in her chair. 

“I expected you to say that,” said Hannibal. 

“You may end up under the care of Frederick Chilton or on death row,” said Bedelia. “I have seen many stories about people who were in jail based on little more than a false accusation and a prosecutor’s desire for higher office.”

“There will be no physical evidence because I did not commit the murders. I am also sure that the murders will have been done during the times that I have been elsewhere. I am a very busy man. Also, I do not plan to confess to things I haven’t done.”

Bedelia frowned ever so slightly. “He will hate you for lying to him. Any feeling that you’ve played a mental game using him for your amusement will utterly alienate him from you.”

“I don’t have any real standing with him now. If I did, I would not be driven to these lengths. If he is angry with me, I will then apologize for as long and as much as it takes to win back his trust. As I said, I do not plan to fully convince him of anything, only just perk up his interest the only way I know how.” 

Bedelia grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a full glass.

“I thought that you drank at the end of a session.”

“I feel the need for a glass now,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krav_Maga is a style of fighting developed by the Israeli military. I chose this mostly because Hannibal doesn't seem to have an overly stylized technique in fighting and Krav Maga emphasizes real-life fighting. In this verse, he picked it up partly because he heard about how Bedelia had been attacked by a patient and had decided that he should be prepared for any such behavior by any patient of his.
> 
> I enjoyed Chilton eyeballing the chicken foot appetizer in that one scene. 
> 
> I'm assuming that Hannibal uses an exclusive gym as to explain how damn empty the pool section was. 
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goa A small state of India, it is famous for a cuisine that uses seafood and coconut.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello, Alana,” said Hannibal when he opened the door to his office. 

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by your office,” she said, dressed in a floral wrap around dress. “I was told by your secretary that you don’t have any more patients for today.”

“I don’t.” He stepped back to let her in his office.

“I was wondering if I could borrow a few of your books for a paper I’m writing. There are also a few things I‘d like to talk about over lunch.”

“If you have a list, I can go up and get them.”

Alana opened her purse and handed him a list. This was not the first time she had borrowed some of his books. 

He climbed the ladder slowly and surely, knowing precisely where each book was. He not only had organized the books so they could be easily but had memorized each and every one of their placements in his mind palace. He made himself a small note to mention he had one to Will Graham and teach him how to create one to store and manage his memories in a way that would be beneficial. 

After he pulled a few books from the shelves, he looked over his shoulder and saw Alana looking at his drawings he had left on his desk. He could tell that she was looking at the one that was his take on the painting “The Wounded Man” by Gustave Courbet but with Will Graham as the man seeming asleep at the foot of a tree except for a wound near his heart. He could tell Alana was about to turn around so he turned back to face the book shelves and act as if he was still looking.

“Ah, I believe I got the last one,” he said loudly. “I’ll be right down.” He was going to pretend he hadn’t seen her and give her the chance to pretend she hadn’t seen that. Lies, small ones, were the lubricant of the machine called society.

He handed her the books. “I hope you find them most informative.”

“I believe I shall,” she said.

“I believe you mentioned lunch.”

“Yes.”

“Is there something else you want? You look like you have a question.”

“No . . . Let‘s go to lunch.”   
***  
“You believe that Alana knows about your feelings for Will?” said Bedelia. Her face was back to its usual Sphinx like composure.

“I believe she suspects. She saw one of my drawings of him. I was copying a painting that reminded me of him.”

“Are you afraid that she will tell Jack about this?”

“We had lunch after she discovered it. She did not confront me about it. After all, it was not a drawing that was in any way sexual or romantic. Conversation, however, was strained and did not stray from academic subjects.”

“I believe you mentioned that you felt that Will had feelings for her and that she reciprocated them.”

“Only partially. She has often commented that he was too unstable for her liking. Another reason she may not push the issue is that if I am no longer Will‘s psychiatrist, it would not only embarrass her for recommending me but Jack would push her to replace me.”

“I see. I think the well being of someone is being ignored.”

“And that would be . . .”

“Will Graham.” 

“I would never hurt him. My therapy has offered him comfort and stability.”

“I don’t see how someone could get comfort and stability from someone one suspects is a serial killer. This plan you have regarding Will Graham, you should stop.”

***  
“Where did you learn how to cook?” said Jack. Jack, Bella, Will and Alana were sitting at Hannibal’s dining table. The main dish for that dinner was rabbit stew with dumplings with side dish of roast vegetables.

Hannibal smiled at the question. “My uncle and my aunt had a chef though they themselves often taught me how to appreciate fresh and quality ingredients. When I came to America, I found the food lacking so I often had to cook my own food if I wanted to feel satisfied,” said Hannibal.

“You come from Paris,” said Will. “I suppose it makes your standards a bit higher.”

“A trifle perhaps but nobody should accept bad food.”

“Sometimes you have no choice. You eat what you have to in order to survive.”

Hannibal remembered that Will had told him about his childhood deprivation when most meals came from a can or from a bag from a food bank. “Nobody should have to. Cooking is what made us human.”

“That sounds like a bit of a stretch,” said Bella. 

Hannibal said, “Not really. It has been argued that because our distant ancestor, Homo erectus, developed cooking, we spent less time having to find and digest our food. There is a huge difference between eating mashed potatoes and a raw potato, for example. The prepared starch is much easier to eat for many reasons other than merely being more appetizing. Our brains are greedy in that they consume more energy than any other organ of the human body and cooking allowed it to access the necessary calories. Cooking with fire also kept us warm, freeing up even more calories for becoming more and more human.”

“Just cooking?” said Bella, still unconvinced.

“Perhaps not just cooking. Eating meat also helped. Meat is a high energy food with important B vitamins.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “So barbecue is why we’re human.”

Hannibal smiled. “No other species cook. Ants treat aphids much like we do cattle, protecting them and drinking their secretions. Bees turn nectar into honey. Various animals can get drunk off fermented fruit. Crows and other intelligent birds are capable of using tools. Cooking is something we own.”

“Since you are so devoted to cooking, does that make you more human?” said Will.

“I believe it is a factor in our overall evolution. It would be a gross oversimplification to say that it grants humanity to a specific person.”

“I remember that you said that one should eat the entire animal if one wanted to be humane.”

“I believe that as well,” said Hannibal. “I also believe in having an ethical butcher and using free range meat.”

“Where are you going with this?” said Alana, frowning slightly.

“I don’t really know,” said Will. 

Hannibal noticed that Will looked troubled but that Will remained focused on him for the rest of the dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catching_Fire:_How_Cooking_Made_Us_Human is a book arguing cooking was instrumental in evolving larger brains due to greater access to calories
> 
> http://www.npr.org/2010/08/02/128849908/food-for-thought-meat-based-diet-made-us-smarter This is what Hannibal bases his argument on though the second half of the article also argues that cooking was instrumental as well.
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wounded_Man_%28painting%29 is the Wounded Man painting, which is very different from the Wound Man illustration.


	4. Chapter 4

“My friend says he wants to kill me. Do I have to worry about him killing me?” said Franklyn Froideveaux as he sat opposite Hannibal in the psychiatrist's office.

Hannibal wept internally. He was strangely reminded of mice infected with a parasite that made them attracted to the scent of cats. It was apparent that Franklyn was a mouse running in circles in front of what appeared to a hungry alley cat just barely restraining itself from eating it in order to bat it between its paws as a toy for a while. “When someone says something repeatedly, I think that you should take it seriously. The sentiments behind passive aggressive statements or ‘jokes’ are what you should be listening to. Perhaps you should reexamine your definition of the word ‘friend.’” As much as he loathed his client, he was determined to give him sound advice until he could find someone who would take him off his hands. Chilton, he thought, I could probably get Frederick to take him. He might even enjoy the attention.

“He’s the only friend I have,” lamented Franklyn. “Now, if you were to be my . . .”

“No,” said Hannibal firmly. “I am your psychiatrist, not your friend. It is clear that you are attracted to psychopaths and if you were serious in trying to find out why and how to avoid making that mistake in the future, your many hours of therapy would be of value. It is apparent, however, that you have no real desire to change this aspect of yourself.”

Franklyn scowled. “I pay for your services. I am the one to decide the value of my hours with you. You have been the best psychiatrist I‘ve had so far.”

***

At Hannibal’s dinner table, Frederick was sitting, awaiting Hannibal’s new creation. He said, “It is a pity that my cooking is subpar compared to yours.”

“I just make it a priority,” said Hannibal as he served him a plate of lobster ravioli with a cream crayfish sauce.

“I read an article about a condition called Gourmand Syndrome.”

“Sound intriguing,” said Hannibal as he put a plate on his own table setting.

“It’s caused by lesions of the brain, brought on by a stroke or a injury to the head. Sufferers become obsessed with good tasting food.”

Hannibal realized that Frederick was being incredibly snide and briefly envisioned drowning him head first in a vat of bubbling hot chili spiced with a healthy dose of Carolina Reaper pepper, a pepper even hotter than the infamous ghost pepper. “I’ll be sure to have a full recovery and serve you ground beef tacos with crispy shells and canned cheese topping.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Frederick, looking alarmed. “Everybody I know enjoys your cooking.”

“It’s obvious you’re in a good mood,” said Hannibal. This will make it easier for me to bring up transferring Franklyn to you, he thought.

“Will asked for my profile of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Oh, did he now?”

“Are you sure you’re not narrowing down list of suspects? The vibe I got from him was that he had someone in mind.”

“No, he hasn’t discussed any suspects with me.”

“Has he asked you to create a profile?”

“No.”

“I do have much more experience with the pathological criminal mind.“ Chilton looked unbearably smug. 

Drowning in chili is too good for him, thought Hannibal. “I have a very interesting patient that has proven too challenging for my therapy. Perhaps your skills would be more compatible . . .”

***

“You lied to me. You played games with my mind.”

Hannibal was naked, kneeling on the ground with rope tying his wrists and ankles behind him. He looked up to see Will, angry and naked except for a leather codpiece, which hid an ample basket of goodies, and a pair of leather gloves. They were in a clearing near a forest. “I’m sorry.”

“You realize that I must punish you for a long, long time.” 

“Are you going to use that paddle to spank me?” said Hannibal, noticing a large bag which held various sex toys including a large and intimidating paddle 

“No,” Will knelt down next to him and whispered in his ear, his hot breath tickling him. “I’m going to use my hands.”

The alarm went off and Hannibal awoke, alone and with an urgent and insistent erection that made him reach down and stroke himself while imagining a Will, flushed with arousal and anger, spanking him until his cheeks were red. He arched his back and came with a yell, then fell back on his bed, tired and lonely and unsatisfied. 

***

“I believe that Will is beginning to suspect me of being more interesting than he first thought. . .” said Hannibal to Bedelia during a session that same week.

“Why do you think that?”

“He asked Chilton’s professional opinion about the Chesapeake Ripper instead of me.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It . . . It really irritates me.” Fucking Chilton, thought Hannibal. At least he agreed to take Franklin especially since Franklin paid cash. 

“I thought having Will flirt with the idea that you may be dangerous was something you wanted.”

“It was merely a means to an end. I was hoping that by focusing on me, his empathy would make him realize not only that I was innocent but how I felt about him. I didn‘t do this so he would spend more time with Chilton!” Two perfect tears ran down his face before he carefully blotted them up with his pocket handkerchief. 

“Are you afraid he will become interested in Chilton instead?”

“Have you ever met Chilton?” Hannibal sniffed.

“In person? No.”

“Then you would not ask such a thing,” scoffed Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.scientificamerican.com/podcast/episode/toxoplasma-infected-rats-love-their-11-08-17/ is a nice little article about the effect of toxoplasmosis on rats, which is the parasite Hannibal is thinking of in reference to Franklyn.
> 
> Gourmand syndrome is real. http://io9.com/gourmand-syndrome-is-the-most-delicious-kind-of-brain-1686326418
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carolina_Reaper This pepper has measured more than 2 million Scoville units.


	5. Chapter 5

“The way you talk about God . . . He seems to be cold, either using the suffering of others to display his power or completely indifferent to our pain,” said Will as he sat across from Hannibal during one of their sessions. He had a little frown on his face. 

Hannibal sighed. “I am not a religious person, at least not the same kind of religious that other people are. I have had personal experiences that prevent me from being so. I hope that you do not find it a problem.”

Will shook his head. “I’m not someone who believes like everybody else either. The closest thing to a belief I have is in the idea of justice but I’m not naïve enough to believe that this world was created to be a just one,” said Will. 

“Despite the horrors around us, people cling to a just world fallacy to the point of blaming victims of the most hideous monsters in order to protect their unsupported belief in divine providence and karma. A more realistic view is to see the need to make our own justice.”

“But a lot of people do terrible thing in the name of justice. How does one determine what is justice?”

“I think that is a question that one must define for one’s self.”

“Many of the killers I've been profiling believe that they are doing the right thing.”

“Society demands that one must take into consideration the effects of one’s actions on others.”

Will nodded but said nothing more about that particular subject. 

“You have been quiet about the subject of one Miss Bloom.”

“I . . . Things remain unresolved. She told me that she doesn’t see me as someone who dates but that dating isn’t something she does either because she can‘t help but over think it. Lately, she’s been avoiding me. I don’t think it’s because I’ve offended her because when she’s mad at you, she’s pretty straightforward about that. I don’t know why . . .”

Hannibal had a suspicion about why and decided to change the subject. “How about Jack?”

“Jack is Jack,” sighed Will. 

“That’s not necessarily a good thing.”

Will chuckled. “Not always.”

“Your well being must be your first priority. As your friend, I do not like to see you suffer, even for the sake of justice.”

Will looked pleased but resigned. “If I could’ve taught Jack how to do what I do, I would’ve done so.”

“I think they would have eventually solved the murders, it would just take them longer.”

“Time is of the essence if the killer is liable to strike again.” 

“Do not take on the weight of the world. You are not Atlas. My priority is what is happening to you not what could potentially happen to others,” said Hannibal. He truly felt like Will should flee the FBI but that would also leave him with no reason to continue to come to these sessions. Also, he knew that Will would not do so. 

“There’s something that’s been bothering me.”

“Please tell me, that is what I’m here for.”

“I keep thinking there’s a connection between the Minnesota Strike and the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“You think Hobbs is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s more like there’s something similar about them even though I know the perpetrators are polar opposites in motivations and differ greatly in technique.”

“From what I can see,” said Hannibal. “The only thing similar is that Garrett Jacob Hobbs had removed their organs for consumption and the Chesapeake Ripper removed organs for trophies.”

Will looked startled. “Maybe . . . Maybe, it isn’t for trophies.”

“You mean . . .”

“Yes, he might be eating them as well. It‘s just a shot in the dark.”

“Still, you must tell Jack of your insight. Occasionally even such a shot fired hits its mark.”

“I will.” 

Noticing Will looked tired, Hannibal said, “Let’s take a short break. I bought a bottle of Riesling on Saturday. I was wondering if you would like a taste.” 

“Sure.” 

A ghost of a strange sweet odor tickled Hannibal’s nose. Hannibal frowned. 

“Something wrong?” said Will. 

“I just thought I smelled something. Never mind.” Hannibal got up to get the bottle.

***  
“You bastard! You tricked me!”

Whatever happiness Hannibal felt from having helped Will during his last session with him vaporized when he opened the door and saw a very irate Chilton. “What are you talking about?”

“You referred Franklyn to me under false pretenses.”

“I told you that he paid in cash in full. I told you that he was not a violent patient and not too hard to manage.”

“You didn’t tell me that listening to him makes my brain dribble out of my ears from boredom, that he’s clingier than a barnacle and that he inappropriately greeted me as his psychiatrist outside the office. You can have him back.”

“I don’t want him back.”

“Also, he pines for you. He’s furious that you dropped him. He’s been begging me to get you to take him back!”

“I’m sure that he will eventually settle for you.”

“Settle? Settle? You goddamn son of a bitch!”

“I suppose you don’t want dinner.”

“No, no, I do not!”

“That’s too bad. I made an entire menu based on foie gras. I made a chawanmushi, soup dumplings, a terrine and donuts.”

Hannibal moved to shut the door but Chilton stuck his foot as to keep it from closing. “No, wait! I’m hungry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't see canon!Hannibal as being a believer. He might believe that there is a god of some sort but in no way, shape or form does he view him with anything resembling reverence. And I can't see Will seeing the world as something powered by a plan with a capital "P" but more something where it takes enormous effort and sacrifice just to keep chaos from overrunning the place.
> 
> Foie gras donuts are a real thing.


	6. Chapter 6

“It has been a while since we last dined together. Barring a last minute call from Jack, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for a dinner on Saturday. Name the dish, I can make it,” said Hannibal as he sat near the fireplace while talking to Will. He was feeling extra mellow after having enjoyed a glass of hard apple cider, tart and refreshing, created from apples grown especially for that purpose. Watching the warm light of the fire play on Will's face was also soothing. 

“I’d like that but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind . . .” Will said.

“Go on.”

“I plan on going fishing earlier that day so I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind using the fish I catch. You look surprised.”

“It’s just that nobody has ever brought any food for me to prepare before. Everybody just eats what I make.”

“If you don’t want to . . .”

“No, I appreciate it very much. It will mean that I can’t start cooking until you come with the main ingredient so it might take a while before we can eat.”

“Could I watch you cook?”

“I’d be honored.” Hannibal briefly wondered if he should serve apple cider more often.

“I . . . actually cook a little myself.”

“Oh, really, what do you cook?”

“I still remember a lot of recipes from Louisiana but I lightened them up so it doesn’t hibernate in the gut and cling to one’s ribs.”

“You can not intrigue me like that and leave me so unsatisfied.” Hannibal briefly fantasized about Will dressed like a French chef, complete with a tall starched toque, and serving him dish after dish of delights. 

Will chuckled. “Perhaps one day, I will serve you a crawfish etouffee.” He swallowed the last of his glass.

“Another glass?” said Hannibal as he held up the bottle of cider.

“No, I have to drive home but it was delicious.”

***  
“You have a smile reminiscent of Mona Lisa,” said Bedelia as she eyeballed her one and only patient. “Therefore, you must be ecstatic.”

“I am very happy. Will brought several trout for dinner. While it is far from my favorite fish, I manage to find a passable recipe called Trout a la Meuniere. He seemed to enjoy it very much. He was also fascinated by my kitchen and volunteered to help prepare dinner, asking me all sorts of questions about my ingredients.”

“Hannibal . . . I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that he may have ulterior motives.”

“I am all about him having ulterior motives.”

Bedelia gave him a frosty look. “He may have brought the fish because he was afraid of the meat you serve.”

“I only buy from the very best,” said Hannibal, puzzled. “He’s never gotten sick and he’s always been enthusiastic.”

“Hannibal . . . He may have been looking around your kitchen for human flesh. You did say he had a flash of insight regarding the Ripper.”

Hannibal blinked. Of course, he had been patterning his behavior after Chilton’s profile of the Chesapeake Ripper then Will had realized that the missing organs from those murders might have been used as food. Not only that but his love for offal was well known. “Oh, I see. But why would he come over if he thought I was a killer? Would he not be in fear for his life?”

“He probably depended on his charm to distract you. You said he was a cop before he worked for the FBI. He risks his sanity for his job despite being terrified of ending up in an institution for the rest of his life. What is his life compared to that?”

“Such a brave boy . . .” said Hannibal, both distressed at being thought such a monster but overwhelmed with appreciation for Will. 

“You must put a halt to all this. What did you expect when even your name rhymes,” she noted.

“Rhymes? Rhymes with what?”

Bedelia did a slow blink, reached for her wine bottle, paused then grabbed a bottle of brandy instead.

***  
There was an unexpected knock on Hannibal’s office door. Perhaps, Will has dropped by for another consultation regarding a recent murder that involved turning a member of the orchestra into a musical instrument, thought Hannibal. He was disappointed when it turned out to be Franklyn. “I am no longer your psychiatrist. I have referred you to Dr. Chilton and you should go to him for any emotional emergencies . . .” He occasionally wished that he was a fraction of the killer that Will thought he was. 

“I will have you know that the quack you foisted upon me openly snores during my therapy sessions. Snores! Like a buzz saw!” 

“That is rather unprofessional.” Even though he viewed Chilton as barely competent, this surprised him until it came to him that Chilton was doing this on purpose to drive Franklyn back to Hannibal. 

“I was about to tell him about my friend, you know the one who keeps joking about using my guts to string his instruments . . .”

Instruments? thought Hannibal. “You have my full attention,” said Hannibal as he gestures for Franklyn to come in. The things I do for you, Will, he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal had just finished cooking dinner. He had invited Will over for dinner, emphasizing that he believed that he had information that he might find relevant to the new case. Once Franklyn had told him who it was, he remembered meeting him at a party. Tobias Budge had been a quiet man but one who radiated a certain chilliness. 

He was walking into the dining room, carrying a soup tureen full of hot butternut squash soup when he heard the door open with a bang. He only had a few seconds to wonder who opened the door since nobody, not even Will, had a key to his house when he saw a man enter the dining room, holding a scalpel, a man he did not recognize. He threw the hot soup directly into the man’s face, which made him roar with pain. Hannibal threw several of the dishes at the man before picking up a chair and hitting the temporarily blinded man over the head. Hannibal ran back to the dining table and picked up a steak knife. 

The man tried to lunge at him but Hannibal managed to stay out of his way. Hannibal put the table between him and the man. Besides fear for himself, he knew that Will was coming. He didn’t want Will to be traumatized by seeing him dead or even worse, being killed by this madman. He had to stop him. He couldn’t bear being the source of another trauma for Will.

Then there was the sound of an explosion and the intruder fell forward, bleeding on his floor. Hannibal turned and saw Will, lowering his gun.

“I hope that wasn’t the surprise for me you were talking about,” said Will.

“No, no, it wasn’t,” said Hannibal, his eyes suddenly moist. “I was just carrying the soup and he . . .” 

“Sit down and I’ll cal the police.”

Hannibal sat down on one of his chairs while Will took out his cell phone. After informing the police, Will switched off his phone and sat down next to him. “Do you know who he is?”

“I have no idea,” sighed Hannibal. “I don’t know why, either.” The combination of Will saving his life and taking charge was creating quite a stirring of the loins that he had to discreetly hide from him. 

“Are you OK?”

“Other than feeling terrified, yes.”

Will put a comforting hand on the small of Hannibal’s back. “I’m glad you’re OK.” 

A strong feverishly sweet smell wafted from Will. He put his hand on Will’s forehead. Hannibal was shocked by how much he was burning. “You’ve got a fever and a very high one at that. You need to go to the doctor. You need the ambulance as much as our intruder.”

“I don’t . . .”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of sirens.

***  
“Hannibal?”

Hannibal opened his eyes and massaged his neck. Sleeping in a chair next to a hospital bed was not good for one‘s body. He turned to the person calling his name. “Will?”

“You slept next to my bed?” 

“Yes,” said Hannibal. “I was worried about you especially since your diagnosis turned out to be encephalitis. It seems that your fever has faded.” He couldn’t help but feel giddy not only at Will's recovery but at the tender smile Will was showing him, a tenderness that reached his eyes. 

“How did you know it wasn‘t just a fever . . .”

“I could smell it.”

“Smell?”

“I have a very sensitive nose.”

“Oh, like how dogs can sniff out cancer . . .”

Hannibal felt a trifle irritated to be compared to a dog, no matter how much Will loved them. “Something like that. How do you feel?”

“I feel a lot better. Thank you. You said you had something important to tell me . . .”

“One of my patients suspected that one of his friends was behind the killing of that member of orchestra. I’ve already informed Jack who he is and Jack has gone to the music shop to investigate his claim. He’s probably arrested him by now. Also . . .” 

“Also?”

“They’ve identified the intruder. His name is Abel Gideon.”

“Tell me about him.”

“You shouldn’t try to profile while you’re still in sickbed.”

“Just humor me.”

“It turns out that he’s a surgeon who’s a client of Frederick Chilton’s. His wife and in-laws are shocked by his behavior.”

“He’s a surgeon.”

“Yes, a very good one. Is that important?”

“Is he still alive?”

“He’s in another hospital room on a different floor. Don’t worry, he’s being guarded. You can ask him questions later.”

“You fought him off. How did you do that?”

“I have been taking Krav Maga classes ever since a colleague of mine was attacked by one of her patients. I figured I should learn how to defend myself. I also threw hot soup in his face.”

“You’re full of surprises,” said Will.

“I’d like to think I’m not so easily defined.”

Will smiled again. “After I get discharged, come over to my house and I’ll make you a crawfish etouffee and an awesome bread pudding.”

“I eagerly await anything your hands have in store for me.” Hannibal took one of Will’s hands and kissed each knuckle. 

The End

Epilogue:

“I don’t think you’ll be needing to drink anything stronger than a glass of wine this session,” said Hannibal. He was starting to become afraid of driving his psychiatrist into either drinking moonshine or taking heroin during their sessions.

“And why is that?” said Bedelia, 

“Things have been going very well for me lately. Will and I are dating.”

“Dating?”

“Yes. It turns out that Chilton sent Gideon to kill me because he was tired of me using him as a culinary crash test dummy for my other guests, being more socially popular and referring a most tedious client to him. Fortunately, I had invited Will for dinner that night so he shot Gideon before he could do me any serious harm. I noticed that Will had a high fever and I insisted he get it checked out immediately. It turns out that him saving my life and my helping to save his has created a bridge to intimacy.”

“I see. I read the news online and Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“After questioning, Will figured out that Gideon had been the puppet to Chilton‘s puppet master. Chilton had been ignored as a suspect due to his poor surgical skills and lack of physical abilities but found someone he could hollow out and use as his proxy. Jack is thrilled at finally catching his Moby Dick.” 

"Is the client you referred coming back to you?"

"Absolutely not."

Bedelia narrowed her eyes. “I hope you have no intention of dumping that particular client on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I prefer being your one and only client. Besides now that Chilton has been confirmed to be a psychopathic killer, the patient has shifted focus from me and now wants to visit Chilton constantly to save his soul.”

“Glass of wine?”

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's liable to be crack.


End file.
